The Tumnus Chronicles
by Sanaryelle
Summary: A look into Tumnus' life as a young Faun, covering the two years before the Long Winter.
1. Music Lessons

_A/N: I'm back! – Can you believe it? And yes, I bring another tale of Tumnus. Break out the toast and sardines! _

_This story will cover about two years, with each chapter being a season. It will not have a completely continuous storyline, but instead offer glimpses into Tumnus' life as a young Faun right before the hundred-year winter. I hope you enjoy it!_

_Disclaimer: This story was written for entertainment purposes only. Unless it turns out to be terrible, in which case it was written to inflict pain on innocent fanfiction readers._

**Year 899, SPRING:**

**Music Lessons**

"_The tune he played made Lucy want to cry and laugh and dance and go to sleep all at the same time." – The Lion, the Witch and the Wardrobe._

"And you put your fingers like so, and then… Master Tumnus, _will_ you pay attention?"

The young Faun whirled around and nearly fell off his stool. His face blushed scarlet, and he quivered under the aged Faun's severe frown.

"Staring out of the window again?" the music instructor tutted, shaking his curly grey head. "How many times must I tell you, young Master Tumnus? You will never learn to play the flute if you do not _concentrate_."

Most of the students grinned, and there were a few snickers stifled behind hands. Young Tumnus turned redder than ever. "S – s – sorry, Mister Dorinus, sir," he stammered, nearly dropping the flute.

The instructor sighed, and turned back to the class. "So you position your fingers thus, and blow steadily over the top of the pipes." He demonstrated, and soon the small hut was filled with discordant sounds as the six young Fauns attempted to emulate Dorinus.

Tumnus was still trembling from being publicly reprimanded, and his lips quivered as he tried to produce a single note. But no matter how hard he blew, he could produce nothing remotely resembling the sound of a flute; he may as well have been blowing through a bulrush.

The music instructor moved among the students, correcting their technique as he went. When he reached Tumnus, the poor young Faun's fingers shook so much that he couldn't even hold the flute to his lips. Dorinus shook his head in disappointment.

"Your fingering is good, young Master Tumnus," the older Faun said gruffly, "But that doesn't matter if you cannot make any noise."

When the lesson was finally over, Tumnus put away the flute and practically fled from Dorinus' little hut. It wasn't that he was the worst student in the class. He just happened to be the most bashful one, a serious shortcoming indeed for a musician. Thankfully his father knew that he suffered acutely from nerves, and wouldn't call upon him to perform. As he trotted up to the door to his cave, he wondered how he could keep his father from learning about his abysmal performance from Dorinus.

Still deep in thought, Tumnus pushed open the little wooden door but stopped short when he saw that his father had company.

"She arrived last winter, from what I heard…" Limnus' voice trailed off when noticed his son standing in the doorway. "Hello, Tumnus," he smiled. "How was your first lesson?"

"Fine," Tumnus lied, putting his lunch-pail by the pantry. It was thankfully dim in that part of the cave, so Limnus did not notice the colour suffusing over his son's cheeks.

His father gestured at the stranger he had been speaking with. "Have you met Nictus?" The Faun who shook Tumnus' hand was a jolly-looking fellow with a red beard. Tumnus murmured an appropriate greeting, and grabbed a piece of toast from the stack on the table.

"Nictus and I have a few things to talk about," his father was saying. "Don't mind our conversation."

Still munching on his toast, Tumnus grabbed a book at random from the shelf. "Actually, I think I'll go outside to read for a while," he babbled. He was desperate to get out of the house to avoid any more questions about his disastrous music lesson, and his father knew his fondness for books.

Limnus waved his hand. "That's fine, son. Be back in time for dinner."

The young Faun nodded before making a hasty escape. As he opened the door, he heard Nictus saying, "She calls herself a Queen…" and wondered idly who they were talking about.

Tumnus trudged through the forest, bad-temperedly kicking at the loam. But by the time he reached a tiny trickling stream, he felt much better. The air was cool and fresh in the shade of a large oak-tree, and flowers nodded on every side. It was hard to feel cross when nature was rejoicing on such a glorious spring day.

The young Faun plucked a yellow crocus and deeply inhaled the fragrance as he opened his book. It was _Nymphs and Their Ways_. He had read it twelve times, and knew it almost by heart. Despite his knowledge, Tumnus had never spoken with a Nymph before. He had seen them several times in the forest, of course, but young Fauns usually stayed among their own, and he was still considered too young to attend the Midnight Dances. Limnus had told him to wait one more spring.

The young Faun sighed, looking down at the book. He did not feel very much like reading. His father sometimes said that he read too much, but Tumnus had always been good at it. He'd already laboured through every book they had in the house, a notable achievement considering that their bookshelf was stuffed with volumes three-deep on the shelves.

But this music business was another matter. Flute-playing was considered a skill that all respectable Fauns ought to have. It was like dancing, in a way. And although Tumnus was quick to pick up on the techniques, whenever it came to demonstrating his ability he fell completely apart. Halfway through his first lesson he had taken to gazing out of the window, not because he found music uninteresting, but because the lesson was moving much too slowly for his taste. While the other Fauns struggled to learn how to hold their flutes properly, and endeavoured to memorize the fingerings for the notes, Tumnus had found these preliminary tasks ridiculously easy.

"I could learn to play the flute if I wanted to," the young Faun muttered to himself. He twirled the crocus between his fingers. "I just can't play _in front_ of anyone. So what's the point of me trying?"

Tumnus pressed the flower between the pages of the book, and let his mind drift away.

_A/N: The quote is from page 17 of the HarperCollins edition of The Lion, the Witch and the Wardrobe. The next chapter will be in the summer, but until then... Will Tumnus ever learn to play the flute? Who is this woman Limnus is talking about? And will our favourite Faun ever meet a nymph? I think you know the answers to these questions, but humour me with reviews!_


	2. The Flute

_A/N: Thanks for the reviews, everyone! Honestly, it's great to hear such wonderful things from you people. I only hope I can live up to your expectations! And now, on the chapter number two…_

_Disclaimer: This story was written for entertainment purposes only. Unless nobody reads it, in which case it is an exercise in typing._

**Year 899, SUMMER:**

**The Flute**

"_He took out from its case on the dresser a strange little flute that looked as if it were made of straw." – The Lion, the Witch and the Wardrobe._

As usual, Tumnus was curled up in an armchair with his nose buried in a book. The door opened with a sudden bang, and the young Faun looked up with a start as his father trotted in. "Tumnus!" the older Faun exclaimed, placing a basket of wild strawberries on the table. "What are you doing inside on a day like this?"

Tumnus carefully held up his book. "Reading," he stated simply. Honestly, sometimes he wondered why his father asked such simple questions.

"Reading." Limnus crossed his arms over his chest, but his eyes were twinkling. "You've been sitting in that chair all morning. It will do you good to get some fresh air and sunshine. Why don't you read outside?"

"But this is a rare edition!" the young faun protested indignantly.

Limnus strolled over to the dresser and took down a small wooden case. "Very well," he said as he sank into the armchair next to his son. "Have it your way. Don't take the book outside. But maybe you'd like to take this." He held up the beautifully-carved box.

"Your flute?" gasped Tumnus, his eyes widening.

The older Faun nodded seriously. "Yes. You should have your own flute, now that you're taking lessons. It belonged to my father Domnus. He was a master musician in his time – like myself, actually – and no doubt you will be too. Here." He handed the wooden case to the young Faun.

Tumnus gulped and tried to hide his dismay. "Th – thank you," he managed to say.

His father smiled. "Your welcome. Now get out of here, Tumnus, before I throw you out."

Tumnus hurried through the trees, his mind awhirl with thoughts. Guilt washed over him as he looked down at the precious flute in his hands. All of his flute lessons so far had been horrible, but he just didn't have the heart to tell his father. And he certainly couldn't tell him now! Not after that little speech about becoming a master musician like Domnus and Limnus.

The young Faun desperately wanted to be like his father, but he wasn't. Limnus was wise and brave, and talked to all sorts of important creatures. Even the centaurs respected him! And often Tumnus couldn't help feeling that he was a disappointment to his father. Limnus often went calling on other creatures, talking for hours with them over tea on important subjects. Tumnus spent all of his spare time curled up in an armchair with a book, the thicker the better. They couldn't be more different.

The little Faun looked around, realizing that he had just come to a silver birch grove. He noted with a squirm of pleasure that it was rather pretty. Tumnus sat under one of the trees amidst the yellow flowers to open the wooden case. He lifted out the beautiful reed flute, handling it as if it was made of glass.

"I won't let my father down this time," Tumnus said to himself. "I'm going to learn how to play this thing, no matter how hard I have to practice!" With a look of fierce determination, the young Faun lifted the flute to his mouth, and blew. At first no sound came out at all. But instead of giving up, like he normally would have done, he closed his eyes, pursed his lips, and tried again. After a few seconds, a faint quivering note issued from the flute!

Tumnus smiled. As long as nobody was around to hear him, he would be able to practice here for as long as his heart desired. He tried a few more notes, before tackling one of the simple tunes that Dorinus had taught the class. He carefully worked his way through the short melody, correcting his many mistakes along the way.

"Excuse me."

With a loud yelp, Tumnus jumped to his feet and spun around – but he had moved much too fast and ended up sprawled ungracefully on the ground.

He looked up at the person who had spoken, a slender girl. Except she wasn't a girl, of course – those were mythical! Besides, her long hair and skin had a definite silver hue to them, and leaves trailed from her skirts. And she was grinning. "I did not mean to startle you," the Wood-Nymph said cheekily.

Tumnus got up and brushed himself off, trying vainly not to blush. "You did _not_ startle me," he protested. "I was just… um… I was… ah…"

"Was that you playing the flute?" the Nymph interrupted brightly.

"The flute!" The young Faun felt a surge of panic and dropped to his knees, frantically searching through the long grass for the precious instrument. Within seconds he found the flute, which had luckily escaped damage when he dropped it. Limnus would have skinned him alive had he broken it! Well, probably not – he wasn't that kind of father. No, Limnus would most likely have given him one of those "I'm-very-disappointed-in-you" speeches that were so much worse than shouting and made him feel miserable for weeks on end.

"I heard you play," remarked the Nymph. She cocked her leafy head to the side. "You're not very good, are you?"

Tumnus felt a surge of indignation. "I'm still learning," he pointed out huffily. He realized that his bottom lip was sticking out, and swiftly amended his pout. He wasn't a child anymore!

The Nymph smiled. "I'm sure you are. But could you possibly choose somewhere else to practice other than under my tree?" She gestured at one of the birch saplings in the grove. "You're upsetting the baby birds," she explained before Tumnus could formulate a reply. "They prefer to listen to my singing, which is actual music. Your rather poor imitation of music could be classified as noise. When you improve, you may come back and play as much as you please."

Noise? _Noise?_

The young Faun glared furiously at the Nymph, but the effect was spoiled by the fact that she was nearly a head taller than him. Tumnus felt his face turn scarlet, and his fists clenched at his sides. He opened his mouth once or twice, but no sound came out. _Nymphs and Their Ways_ had said nothing about how to deal with this! Overcome with embarrassment and indignation, Tumnus finally stormed away in a huff.

If this was a Nymph, then he certainly did not like them.

_A/N: The opening quote is from page 17 of the HarperCollins edition of The Lion, the Witch and the Wardrobe. That part of the book is probably one of my favourite chapters, because we find out so much about Tumnus, and emotionally it's so touching and… I had better shut up now. So, how'd you like the chapter?_


	3. Hunt for the Stag

_A/N: I'm so sorry about the long wait, but let's just say that midterms take over your life. Thanks so much to the people who reviewed the last chapter, and I hope the delay hasn't scared you off! Enjoy!_

_Disclaimer: This story was written for entertainment purposes only. But if Andrew Adams calls me up with a movie offer, I can't promise that I'll say no._

**Year 899, AUTUMN:**

**Hunt for the Stag**

"_The White Stag had once more appeared in his parts – the White Stag who would give you wishes if you caught him." – The Lion, the Witch and the Wardrobe._

"Tumnus! Over here!"

Tumnus turned to see another young Faun waving at him frantically. His face broke out into a wide smile, and he trotted over. "Hello, Girbius," he greeted his friend.

The brown-haired Faun bobbed his head excitedly. "I didn't think you'd come," he said, grinning like a maniac. "After all, you're not exactly the 'hunting' type, and I thought you'd much rather sit this one out."

"Sit this one out?" asked Tumnus with mock indignation. His father had voiced the very same opinion, and had even laughed when Tumnus had first breached the subject. "Who wouldn't want to join a hunt for the White Stag?"

Girbius raised a sandy eyebrow at this unusual show of interest.

"I read all about it," explained Tumnus, "and there are the most fascinating stories about–"

"Of course," interrupted Girbius. He waved his hand airily. "You've _read _about it. Why didn't I guess?"

The dark-haired Faun made a face and was about to reply, when a booming voice cut across the chatter of the gathered hunters: "Silence!"

Tumnus and Girbius jumped in surprise, and meekly looked up at a towering Centaur. Tumnus would have been lying if he said that he wasn't afraid of the magnificent Centaurs standing nobly among the Narnians. There were four of them in all. Besides Tumnus and Girbius, a few other male Fauns had shown up, several which Tumnus recognized from his music lessons. A dozen Red Dwarfs were also present, six Satyrs, a horse, a bear, two foxes, several birds, and a family of squirrels.

"Thank you," rumbled the Centaur. "I am honoured to lead this hunt for the White Stag, and I thank you all for coming. We shall have need of all your talents, I am sure. Now." The Centaur cleared his throat. "The stag was spotted by the riverside. Two parties will each take a bank and sweep along nice and steady. Dwarfs, Fauns, and the larger Talking Beasts will take the east. Centaurs, Satyrs, and the smaller Beasts will take the west. The birds will fly above and act as scouts. All clear?"

The Narnians shouted back that it was, and they set off.

Tumnus and Girbius found themselves walking among a small group of Red Dwarfs. Tumnus was rather pleased with this arrangement as he didn't think he could stand the snickers from his classmates. The other young Fauns were walking ahead of them next to the enormous brown bear, and were looking a little nervous. The horse and the rest of the Dwarfs headed the party.

"How d'ye do?" asked one of the Dwarfs. He wore a yellow hood. "My name's Terwimple. These are my brothers, Barumple, Foldimple, and Pikkatumple." Dwarfs in green, red, and violet hoods bowed their heads with ready grins. What with their bushy auburn beards, they all looked the same to Tumnus. He only hoped that they wouldn't switch hoods on him.

The Faun shook Terwimple's hand. "My name's Tumnus," he replied.

"I'm Girbius!" his friend called cheerily, blue eyes twinkling.

Terwimple frowned. "Strange names," he noted. "Can't say I've seen Fauns before. We prefer to stay in our caves."

Tumnus frowned. "Oh, how _terrible_!" he exclaimed. "Imagine not being able to see the sky or feel the wind or dance under the trees or–"

The dwarfs burst into laughter, and the Faun's cheeks coloured in confusion.

"It's actually quite nice underground," sputtered Barumple. "We do choose to live there, you know."

"The caverns have wonders of their own," remarked Foldimple cheerfully. "Perhaps not giant trees, but rooms made of sparkling crystal, and rock with veins of gold running through them."

"Perhaps you could come visit us sometime," Pikkatumple chimed in. "You wouldn't be the first visitors we've had to the caves."

The two young Fauns readily agreed.

Suddenly, the horse at the head of their party whinnied. "There it is!" he called. "The White Stag!"

Tumnus couldn't see past the swarm of dwarves, but the party broke into a blundering run. Tumnus was knocked to the side by a dwarf – he couldn't say who – and by the time he regained his wits he found himself quite alone.

"Hello?" the Faun called tremulously. His voice steadily grew louder as he shouted the names of his friends: "Girbius? Terwimple? Barumple? Foldimple? Pikkatumple? _Anybody?_"

The group had run away from the river, and so poor young Tumnus found himself without any landmarks to find his way. He was well and truly lost. The Faun sat down on a log and put his face in his hands.

"What are you doing?"

Tumnus nearly fell of the log with shock. He looked up, and was irritated to find himself face-to-face with the rude little Wood-Nymph he had met over the summer. The Faun pushed himself up off the log and drew himself up to his rather unimpressive height. "I'm hunting," he proclaimed stiffly.

The Nymph stared at him with silvery eyes. "Hunting?" she repeated. "Shouldn't you be practicing the flute? Or maybe you're even worse at hunting than music, although that is quite difficult to imagine."

Tumnus gaped at her soundlessly, offended at her lack of good manners.

"What are you hunting anyway?" asked the Wood-Nymph with interest.

"The White Stag," Tumnus answered, unable to avoid such a direct question.

"Really?" The Nymph stroked her chin. "Then you're in the wrong part of the forest."

"Could you tell me where it is?"

"I assume you're part of that bumbling bunch of creatures who've attempted to organize a hunting party," she carried on. "Really, there's no way you will catch the White Stag at that rate. Half of you can't run fast enough, and the other half have no sense of direction. I daresay that _both_ apply to you. But as I am a nice person, I will point you in the proper direction."

So saying, the Nymph extended one leafy arm.

With a final glare, Tumnus trotted off into the forest.

_A/N: The quote is from p. 202 of The Lion, the Witch and the Wardrobe._

_I feel I must apologize again for the long wait. I will try to have the next chapter up by next weekend! Reviews will be lovely. I want to know what you think of the dwarves. I rather like them, especially little Pikkatumple with his violet hood!_


	4. Is Man a Myth?

_A/N: Huge thanks to Ghilanna Faen Tlabbar, elektrum, and Almyra for the lovely reviews! I'm glad you all enjoyed the rude little Nymph. She doesn't appear in this chapter, unfortunately, but I can promise that we'll see her in chapter 5._

_Disclaimer: This story was written for entertainment purposes only. But if I get inordinate amounts of positive reviews, then it was written to inflate my ego._

**Year 899, WINTER:**

**Is Man a Myth?**

""_Ah!" said Mr. Tumnus in a rather melancholy voice, "if only I had worked harder at geography when I was a little Faun, I should no doubt know all about those strange countries. It is too late now."" – The Lion, the Witch and the Wardrobe._

"'_Narnia, Narnia, Narnia, awake. Love. Think. Speak. Be walking trees. Be talking beasts. Be divine waters.'" – The Magician's Nephew._

Two dainty sets of hoofprints meandered through the snow. They travelled over little hills and wound through the trees, until eventually reaching the two very beings who were making the tracks. One was a Faun with curly black hair and a red scarf. The other had brown hair and a yellow scarf. Each of them swung a lunch-bucket from his mittened hand.

"Snow, snow, snow," grumbled the black-haired one. "I hate snow. I wish it never snowed. I hate winter. I wish it was spring." He kicked at the white powder with his hoof in a fit of bad temper.

His friend regarded him with amusement. "What's bothering you, Tumnus?" he asked with exaggerated innocence.

"I never said that anything was both–"

"No, but I can tell." Girbius' blue eyes were twinkling. "I knew you disliked winter, but not this much. It can't only be the snow. What is _really_ on your mind?"

Tumnus fidgeted for a moment before giving in with a deep sigh. "It's just – well – I've been practicing the flute since summer. And I don't seem to be getting any better at all!"

"That happens to everybody," said the other Faun lightly. "My father wanted me to learn singing, not flute, but it's the same. Just keep working at it. It's all about practice and confidence."

"I have too much practice and not enough confidence," muttered Tumnus gloomily, causing his friend to laugh.

By this time, the two young Fauns had finally reached their destination. It was a small hut in the middle of the woods, a hut that belonged to a very old Faun called Mirluns. He taught the young Fauns everything that a well-educated Narnian should know. His lessons included grammar, logic, geography, astronomy, philosophy, and several other things with equally horrible-sounding names. But for a few days each winter, old Mirluns would tell stories to the young Fauns after they had finished their lessons. Such a day was today.

Girbius and Tumnus entered the hut, and hung their scarves on hooks next to the scarves of Fauns who had already arrived. They took their seats in little wooden chairs, which had been placed in a semi-circle before the fireplace. Old Mirluns was snoozing in the largest chair closest to the fire, and the young Fauns chatted quietly as they waited for the lesson to begin.

Mirluns awoke with a snort, and blinked as he adjusted his cut crystal spectacles. "Now," he harrumphed, stroking his white beard. "Quiet, please. Let us begin with the noble subject of philosophy…"

Tumnus allowed himself to drift off as Mirluns droned on and on. The ancient Faun made philosophy sound about as interesting as stale bread. The young Faun examined a curiously-shaped clock on the mantelpiece which had broken and was stopped at three minutes to lunchtime. Speaking of lunchtime, he was feeling rather hungry…

"Master Tumnus! Perhaps you would be so kind as to provide us with the answer."

Tumnus jerked his head around to look blankly at Mirluns, who wore an expression of profound displeasure on his wrinkled face. The young Faun felt a twinge of panic. He hadn't been listening. Were they still talking about philosophy? In desperation, he snuck a glance at Girbius, who was trying to mouth the correct answer to him.

Tumnus squinted at his friend, trying to form the right words. "An… Han… Hand fog?" Immediately he wanted to kick himself for saying something that stupid.

"The answer is Anvard, Master Tumnus. The last time I checked, the pass to Archenland was not called "Hand fog". I suggest you pay more attention during class, and to your geography."

Tumnus felt his ears burning, and made a point of paying close attention to the rest of the lesson.

When lunchtime finally arrived, the young Fauns opened up their lunchpails and shared their food. In a rare show of benevolence, Mirluns brought out some hot apple cider, which the students eagerly sipped. Tumnus munched on his blackcurrant bun, feeling very content as he waited for the old Faun to begin his story. For one whole afternoon he wouldn't have to worry about learning strange names and dates. He could just sit here before a crackling fire, eating buns and sipping cider as he listened to the legends of Narnia. He loved winter.

"Today I will tell you about the beginning of the world," said Mirluns softly. The young Fauns shifted excitedly and shushed their neighbours, leaning forward to listen. "I will tell you how Aslan created everything we see, how the Fauns came from the trees, and how Aslan crowned the first King and Queen of Narnia." Contrary to the philosophy lesson earlier that morning, Tumnus was now spellbound by the old Faun's voice. He let his imagination fly out over a new green land, swooping down to see the first Fauns emerging from the trees. But when it came to picturing King Frank and Queen Helen, his imagination faltered.

"What do humans look like?" he asked as soon Mirluns had finished the extraordinary tale.

"Nobody knows for sure," answered the old Faun. "That is not important. All tales of Humans being seen in Narnia are myths, Master Tumnus."

"My father says they're real."

Annoyance flickered over Mirluns' face. "Some Fauns, like your father, do believe that humans actually existed in Narnia at one time," he admitted grudgingly. "But just like the Tree of Protection that was said to have kept evil at bay, men – are – myths."

"The _Tree of Protection_ is a myth?" Girbius asked, cocking his head to the side.

Mirluns waved his gnarled hand. "Of course. If the Tree of Protection was supposedly planted by a Son of Adam, then it is surely a myth. Besides, many Narnians have searched for the tree with silver apples on all the riverbanks in the land, and it has not to be found."

"Then that means we are not protected from evil!" a particularly young Faun squeaked, his large eyes bugging out with fear.

"Nonsense!" snapped Mirluns. "These stories are just allegories for what actually happened. Just because the Tree is a myth does not mean that we have no protection. I have no doubt that Aslan will protect us from anything that is out there, without depending upon the existence of some silly tree."

Most of the young Fauns seemed satisfied with that answer. But Tumnus noticed that Ventius, a Faun slightly older than he, was scratching his head. "What about the White Lady who calls herself Queen?" asked Ventius, frowning a little. "Is she a Daughter of Eve?"

"Certainly not," Mirluns answered. "Frankly, I'm not quite sure what she is. But we're out of her jurisdiction so far West. And you Fauns are too young to be talking of such things anyway." The old Faun glanced at his silver pocket-watch. "Class is dismissed. Go on home, then." Mirluns shooed the younger Fauns out of his hut and slammed the door.

Tumnus and Girbius strolled together through the snow, heads bowed against the chill wind. "What do you think?" Tumnus asked his friend as he struggled to keep his scarf from blowing into his face. "Is man a myth?"

Girbius shook his curly head. "I don't know about humans," he admitted, "but I can't believe that the Tree of Protection is just a made-up story. How does Mirluns know all about it, anyway? _He_ wasn't at the beginning of the world – although he looks like he could have been."

"I guess the only one who really knows is Aslan," Tumnus said thoughtfully, "and he hasn't been seen for so long now."

His friend flashed a quick smile at him. "Well," he remarked, rubbing his mittened hands together to warm them, "If he decides to show up one day, be sure to ask him!"

_A/N: Two quotes for you today! The first is from pages 12 and 13 of The Lion, the Witch and the Wardrobe. The second quote is from page 108 of the 1971 Puffin edition of The Magician's Nephew. I can sympathize with Tumnus; I hated geography!_


	5. Midnight Dance

_A/N: First of all, I apologize for not updating sooner. But final exams do take precedence over writing fanfiction, as much as it pains me to admit it. I really wish it weren't so, but there you are. So now we're back on schedule again, and I'll try to keep up with the weekly updates, "try" being the key word here. Big thanks to everyone who reviewed the last chapter!_

_Has it really been over a year since I started writing Tumnus fanfiction? Well, I posted the first chapter of "A Faun's Tale" on November 8th, 2005, so… Wow…_

_Disclaimer: This story was written for entertainment purposes only. Unless I end up hating it in which it was a waste of my bloody time._

**Year 900, SPRING:**

**Midnight Dance**

"_Nearer and nearer came the music, a tune wild and yet dreamy, and the noise of many light feet, till at last, out from the wood into the moonlight, came dancing shapes such as Caspian had been thinking of all his life." – Prince Caspian._

"Nervous?"

Tumnus glanced over at his father, and forced a smile onto his face. "No," he said, and even to his own ears it did not sound convincing. Not convincing at all.

Beside him, Girbius let out a laugh. But his friend's laughter seemed strained, and Tumnus drew some comfort from knowing that Girbius was nervous, too.

"I remember my first midnight dance," remarked the fair-haired Faun standing on Girbius' other side. "I was so nervous that I tripped over my own hoofs not ten steps in."

"Father, this is hardly encouraging," protested Girbius dryly.

Girions ruffled his son's hair, and the younger Faun immediately smoothed it back into place with quick, fluttering hands. Tumnus understood completely – he was fidgeting so badly that he had taken to twisting his tail between his fingers. If he didn't pay attention, he was liable to tie it into a knot.

It was the same scenario all around: groups of encouraging fathers and anxious sons clustered in pockets around the edge of the Dancing Lawn, all waiting – waiting – waiting. Tumnus and the other young Fauns had been to the Dancing Lawn before, of course, but tonight was the first dance of spring. Tonight was their first midnight dance. Tonight was the first time these young Fauns were old enough to dance with the Naiads and Dryads. For any Faun this would be a nerve-wracking experience, but for a Faun of Tumnus' introversion it was torturous.

Then they heard it: the sound of harps. And ever so faintly, a light rustling like leaves tangling together in the wind, and a silvery sound like water flowing over polished stones. They were coming.

At one end of the Dancing Lawn, a group of Fauns struck up the music, keeping time with the approaching harps. Flutes, pipes, and drums shrilled out a lively tune, and at long last figures were seen approaching out of the shadows between the trees.

Before Tumnus knew it, the Dancing Lawn was full of graceful figures, their feet not even bruising the grass in the moonlight. To his horror, Tumnus noticed that the Nymphs were starting to drag the young Fauns out of the surrounding crowd, pulling them into the dance. A young Naiad approached them with a rather determined look on her face, and Girbius had only enough time for a panicked glance at his friend before he was swept away.

Tumnus gulped at how quickly Girbius had been snatched, and was about to take a step back from the Lawn. But he froze when he heard a horribly familiar voice.

"Well! Fancy seeing you here, fearless hunter."

He looked up, and his heart sank when he recognized that rude Wood Nymph who seemed to do nothing but insult him whenever she met him. Her head was cocked to the side and she was grinning, holding out her arms. Tumnus would have fled, but his father's hands were pressing on his back, pushing him forward encouragingly. The Wood-Nymph seized his hands with a laugh and spun him off into the dance.

Tumnus felt his hooves moving automatically as they whirled around amid the rest of the dancing couples, weaving in and out of the crowd. But Tumnus paid no attention to that. He was too busy gawping at the Nymph. Underneath his complete surprise at seeing her, he was satisfied to note that he had grown significantly, and was now nearly as tall as she.

"At least there's _something_ you can do tolerably well," the Wood Nymph noted as they danced, her lips curving in amusement. "Speaking of which, have you been practicing your flute like a good little Faun?"

Tumnus bristled at the remark. "Yes, I have," he answered as primly as he could. "I can play a few tunes by memory, now."

"Really?" the Nymph asked as they twirled around. "I would like to hear those tunes sometime – only if they're good, that is."

"How very kind of you," Tumnus muttered under his breath, deftly skipping around a mortified young Faun who had lost his balance.

"Pardon?"

"Erm – I haven't seen you," the Faun hastily amended. "All winter, I mean."

The Nymph gave him a curious look, as if she knew that he had been saying something else. "I slept all winter," she told him. "It was too cold for me to move about much. Some of the other Nymphs can go out in the cold of winter, like my friend Holly. But not me."

The dance was coming to an end, and Tumnus barely had time to catch his breath before Girbius came up. The fair-haired Faun looked much happier than he had at the start of the dance, and his arm around the Naiad. "Tumnus!" he said jovially. "Meet Ulana."

The young Faun nodded politely at the Naiad, and realized that he had no idea what the name of the infuriating Dryad was. She saved him from the embarrassment, and introduced herself. "I'm Betula," she told the other Faun.

"Girbius," he grinned, before glancing at Tumnus. "So, ready for another one?"

The music was striking up again, and the Nymph, Betula, glanced at Tumnus. "It's tradition to keep changing partners," she reminded them. Girbius gave a cheerful bow and whirled her onto the Dancing Lawn.

As Tumnus joined hands with Ulana the Naiad, he couldn't help wondering at the funny feeling in his stomach. It wasn't like the time he was sick and had to stay in bed, and it wasn't like the time he ate too many blueberry pancakes. It was completely different. Jealousy? No, it couldn't be that. It couldn't possibly be that.

It was nearly dawn when Tumnus finally danced with Betula again. Her silvery skin was practically shining, leafy hair curling in tendrils down her back. "So, Master Tumnus," she said playfully, "How did you enjoy your first Midnight Dance?"

"I don't know," confessed the young Faun. "It was… enjoyable. And tiring." As if to prove his words, he stumbled slightly.

The Wood-Nymph laughed as she steadied him. "Or perhaps your dancing skills have gone the way of your hunting and musical skills."

Tumnus did not know how it happened, but something inside of him snapped. "Will you _please_ stop insulting me?" he shouted, stopping short in the middle of the dance. "Why do you have to be so unspeakably _rude_ all of the time?"

And then his mind caught up with his mouth, and he felt his eyes widening in horror. Betula was staring at him in undisguised shock. Without another word, Tumnus turned and fled into the trees.

"Tumnus?"

The young Faun gritted his teeth and clenched his fists. He really did not want to speak to her right now.

"Tumnus?"

Why couldn't she just go off and find her own patch of forest? Why couldn't she just go off and dance with Girbius or some other Faun?

"Tumnus… I'm sorry."

Now _that_ was something he had certainly not expected. The young Faun turned around and could just barely make out the Nymph among the dark trees. She remained in the shadows.

"I don't mean to be rude. Well, maybe I do… What I'm saying is, I don't mean to be unkind. I'd never seen a Faun before you, and I guess the way I deal with the strange is to act all aloof. Not that I think you're strange. Well, you are, a little, but that's beside the point… The point is," she took a deep breath here, "I really am sorry. I'll try not to be rude, but I can't help it most of the time."

Tumnus was silent for a long time. "I was the first Faun you met?" he finally said, and reasons for her irritating attitude started to click into place.

Betula nodded. "The very first. I'd heard about Fauns, of course, from the other Nymphs. But I'd never actually spoken to one before. And I'll let you in on another secret." She stepped forward, and the rising sun caught on her silvery skin. "That was my first Midnight Dance, too." She winked a large green eye. "Don't tell anyone, though."

_A/N: The quote is taken from page 86 of the HarperTrophy edition of Prince Caspian._

_You know, I didn't mean for this to be as "fluffy" as it turned out, so I apologize for that. And Betula is Latin for "birch". Yes, I have no originality whatsoever. The next chapter will take place in the summer, which should brighten up my miserable Vancouver winter quite considerably. Reviews, as always, are more than welcome._


	6. Jollification

_A/N: I can't believe how much time it's taken me to get this up! Well, so much for my "weekly updates". Er… sorry? I really have no excuses, other than school, my obscenely long Garth Nix fic, and writer's block. It's never been this terrible before, but I suppose it happens to everyone. Don't worry; I've never abandoned a story, and I know how frustrating it can be when an author does, so this WILL be finished! Please don't throw me to the lions!_

_Disclaimer: This story was written for entertainment purposes only. But if you really want to pay me, cheques can be made out to "Sanaryelle". Blank cheques, preferably._

**Year 900, SUMMER:**

**Jollification**

"_Summer when woods were green and old Silenus on his fat donkey came to visit, and sometimes Bacchus himself, and the rivers would run red with wine and the whole forest would give itself up to jollification for weeks on end." – p. 17, The Lion, the Witch and the Wardrobe._

The first days of summer had arrived, and that meant only one thing to young Fauns all over Narnia – celebrations! Tumnus had been shaken awake at an obscenely early hour by a cheery-faced Girbius, who had been practically bouncing in his excitement. A groggy Tumnus had barely managed to scowl at his father who had so obligingly allowed his friend to disturb his sleep, before grabbing two apples on his way out of the house.

Girbius had practically dragged him through the woods until the crisp morning air had awaked Tumnus sufficiently so that he was able to find his way unaided. After a series of dire threats that Girbius had not paid the slightest attention to, Tumnus started to feel rather excited – although he would not admit such a thing aloud. Nevertheless, he could not help the broad grin that was spreading over his face when they reached a small clearing in the trees.

A crowd of young Narnians had already gathered to celebrate the start of summer. A couple of Fauns that Tumnus recognized were chattering excitedly. A group of Nymphs were dancing out of sheer joy, wearing flowers in their hair. A few Satyrs were turning cartwheels on the grass and falling over. Some young Dwarfs, a Squirrel, a Hedgehog, and a Rabbit were playing a spirited game of tag.

"Come on," said Girbius, and Tumnus needed no second invitation.

The best part of all came around mid-day, when the young Rabbit stopped still and swivelled his furry ears. "Wait! Wait!" he called, and everybody froze and listened hard. "Do you hear it?" cried the Rabbit, ears swivelling madly.

"Hear what?" Tumnus asked Girbius, who shrugged. But then they _did_ hear it: the faint clip-clop of hooves, and the rumble of voices.

Before they quite knew what was happening, a group of people had burst into the clearing. Tumnus had a confused impression of various adult Narnians before spotting the figure in their midst. A figure riding a donkey. A figure riding a fat, grey donkey.

"Silenus!" the young Narnians shrieked, tumbling over teach other in their efforts to reach the man.

Silenus beamed down at them all, his jolly red face quivering with laughter. "Oho!" he chortled, adjusting the crown of grape vines that was wrapped around his snowy temples. "What have we here?"

"Silenus, we were so hoping that you'd come!" a young Naiad squeaked. The older Narnians who had come with Silenus chuckled at her enthusiasm, and she blushed scarlet.

The old man twinkled down at her. "Not at all, my dear," he grinned. "In fact – this clearing looks as good a spot as any, wouldn't you say?"

The centaur beside him nodded his bearded head, and signalled to the others. It was then that Tumnus noticed that the adults had been carrying food: baskets upon baskets of bread and cheese and summer fruit, and barrels of wine. They were laid out in a trice, and the young Faun had never seen a more delicious spread.

They ate and rested and talked and gambolled and ate again – and all the while more Narnians of all ages were coming out of the surrounding trees and joining in the festivities, so that soon that little clearing was full of merriment. Word of Silenus' arrival had travelled fast. The more optimistic of the Narnians rather hoped that Bacchus would visit, but most of them knew that summer would be short that year, and that he probably would not come.

Tumnus was rolling on the ground laughing fit to burst at one of Girbius' jokes, when a shadow fell over him. He squinted up at the figure, and felt his smile disappear when he recognized Betula. The young Faun vividly remembered the fiasco at the Midnight Dance, and his face flushed. "Erm… hullo," he muttered, staring at the ground.

Betula actually had the nerve to grin. "Nice to see you again," she chirped. When he did not say anything in reply, the Dryad shrugged and headed off in the direction of the food.

Tumnus gritted his teeth. He would not let that insufferable excuse for a Dryad ruin his day; no, he would not. "Tumnus?" His friend was giving him a curious look. "Something bothering you?"

"Uh – no," said the young Faun, and not very convincingly at that. "Let's – let's go see what those Dwarfs are up to."

Tumnus managed to avoid Betula all morning and most of the afternoon, which involved some rather creative manoeuvring on his part, until she finally cornered him near the edge of the clearing. "So are you not going to speak to me _at all_?" she asked with an amused sparkle in her green eyes.

"What if I'm not?" said Tumnus. He felt his cheeks reddening, and cursed silently – why, oh _why_ did he always have to blush in situations like these?

"Well, I'm not saying that I would be absolutely devastated if you didn't speak to me. I just think it's very rude and selfish of you, not to mention immature. You don't see grown-ups ignoring each other, do you? But then I suppose you are _very_ young."

If Tumnus' mouth had opened any wider, he would have dislocated his own jaw. "Wha – buh –"Apparently he couldn't even find words fit to express his anger. "You – how – how _dare _you!" he yelped, having finally recovered his powers of speech. "You've done nothing but insult me since we first met. Do you _ever_ have anything nice to say?"

But to his astonishment, the Wood-Nymph neither looked abashed nor irritated, but was giggling. Tumnus winced – it was a very annoying sound. "There!" she trilled happily, clapping her hands together in triumph. "I knew that I would get you to speak to me!" Then she leaned over and actually tweaked the shocked Faun on the nose.

Tumnus could only stare at her, before throwing up his hands and stalking off. The effect was spoilt when he stumbled over a twig, but he righted himself and trotted away with his head held high, desperately trying to ignore the Nymph's laughter. He was so angry and embarrassed that he did not notice Girbius until he ran right smack into his friend.

"Ouch!" Girbius rubbed his shoulder. "Oh, _there_ you are, Tumnus! I've been looking for you." He drew closer and lowered his voice to a conspiratorial whisper, eyes darting from side to side. "One of the Satyrs pinched something from the centaurs. C'mon!"

Tumnus allowed himself to be led deeper into the wood, where they came upon two Satyrs, the Rabbit, a Squirrel, and a Dwarf, all gathered in a circle. "We're here," Girbius hissed. "Have you got it open yet?"

Peering over a Satyr's shoulder, Tumnus' eyes widened when he realized what they had stolen. The young Narnians were attempting to pry open a barrel of wine. The lid came off with a pop, the deep red liquid sloshing over the sides, and the Dwarf pulled a jug out from under his coat. They passed the jug around the circle, but Tumnus was inclined to refuse.

"Oh, come on, Tumnus," said Girbius merrily. "Don't say you never wanted to try it, because you'd be lying."

He did have a point, and Tumnus took a tentative gulp before breaking out into a fit of hiccups. The other Narnians fell over laughing, and Tumnus braced himself and took another, smaller sip. Really, after a while it did not taste so bad…

"What are you all doing?"

Tumnus' heart sank to his hooves. "Oh no!" he whispered. "It's her! Quick, hide it!"

Betula emerged from the trees, and stared down at all of the embarrassed faces. Tumnus scowled – he knew that the Wood-Nymph would turn them in to the older Narnians. Tumnus did not want to even think about what his father would do to him when he found out.

"Is that – _wine_?"

Tumnus gave a reluctant nod.

The Wood-Nymphs eyes sparkled. "May I have some?"

The other young Narnians gaped up at her. It was the Dwarf who recovered first. "Of – of course!" he cried, proffering the jug.

Several rounds and two-thirds of a barrel later, the young Narnians were the best of friends. They sat on the forest floor singing loud songs and telling extremely funny jokes that only they seemed to understand. And Tumnus and Betula had decided to make peace between them. "Tumnus," the Wood-Nymph slurred, eyes slightly unfocussed. "I'm sho shorry 'bout being rude and everything. You're a really, really, _really_ nice Faun. Really shpecial."

"You are quite special too, Betula," said Tumnus, throwing his arm about her shoulders. "What I mean is, you tell people what you really think. You tell them the complete truth. You're a truth-teller. You tell the truth"

This rather insightful and poignant conversation was abruptly ended by a deep, rumbling voice: "What is going on here?"

The youngsters turned and looked up into the stern, bearded face of a Centaur. He looked absolutely furious. Betula gave a quiet whimper, the Squirrel trembled and hugged the Rabbit, and Girbius leaned over to Tumnus and whispered, "Party's over."

_A/N: The quote is taken from my favourite page (17) in The Lion, the Witch and the Wardrobe. I would dearly love reviews, but seeing how horrible I was about updating I'm not all that optimistic. No worries! I'll finish posting this story no matter what!_


	7. Treasure Seeking

_A/N: I am almost ashamed to post this chapter, as the last time I had updated this story was over a year ago. I suppose my inspiration ran dry, and I went on to write in other fandoms and explore other interests. However, I have never left a story incomplete, and now I am happy to return to Narnia once more. Here, at long last, is the seventh chapter of "The Tumnus Chronicles"._

_Disclaimer: This story was written for entertainment purposes only. Unless James McAvoy takes notice and wants to discuss the finer points of Tumnus, in which case it was written to attract a potential husband._

**Year 900, AUTUMN:**

**Treasure Seeking**

"_Feasting and treasure-seeking with wild Red Dwarfs in deep mines and caverns far beneath the forest floor." – T__he Lion, the Witch and the Wardrobe__._

Tumnus held the lantern high, casting about in the darkness for any sign of a telltale glimmer. Behind him, Girbius pushed a small wooden wheelbarrow over the uneven cavern floor.

The Red Dwarf brothers Terwinple, Barumple, Foldimple, and Pikkatumple had made good on their promise, and invited the two young Fauns to look for treasure in some of the less-explored caves and tunnels. Normally Tumnus would have declined the offer to go mucking about in the complete darkness over rough stones, but the possibility of stumbling over a long-forgotten hoard of treasure was too tempting to resist. It was just like some of the adventures he had read in books.

_Crash!_

Tumnus jumped and swung around, to see Girbius standing behind an overturned wheelbarrow. His friend mopped his red face with the end of his tufted tail. "Curse these stones!" the normally-carefree Girbius said, kicking at a stalagmite with his little hoof. The sound echoed strangely around them.

"Shall I take the wheelbarrow for a bit?" offered Tumnus when he was sure his friend had calmed down.

The brown-haired Faun shook his head. "It's no use. We've been stumbling about in this wretched cavern for hours."

"Terwimple did say he thought there was a little cave around here where thieves used to hide their treasure." Tumnus lifted his lantern and looked around, but all he could see were stones, stones, and more stones. And far across the cave moved two other lights: the Dwarf brothers. They had split up to explore the cavern as efficiently as possible, but so far – nothing.

"Let's rest for a bit," said Girbius, sitting down on the upturned wheelbarrow. Tumnus put down the lantern. "Have you heard from your sister?"

Tumnus stared at his friend. Nymphs were raised by their mothers and Fauns were raised by the fathers and that was that. He hadn't seen his sister in years, and said as much to Girbius. "But," he added, "I think she lives further south now."

He moved over to the cavern wall and sat. As he leaned against a large flat stone it suddenly swung inwards. "I – what? – Oh I say!" And with that, Tumnus tumbled back into darkness.

He slid down a short tunnel and landed full on his face. Dimly he could hear Girbius calling his name, but he had been winded by his fall and could not reply. He slowly sat up and checked himself to make sure everything was in the right place and in working order, concluding that aside from a few scrapes and bruises he was perfectly fine.

Now some other people were calling his name. The Red Dwarfs! Tumnus cupped his hands around his mouth and called, "Girbius! Terwimple! Barumple! Foldimple! Pikkatumple! I'm all right. Give a fellow a hand?"

Soon he saw the light of three lanterns, and then the concerned faces of his friends. He beamed at them, but realized that they were staring at something _behind_ him with a flabbergasted expression on their faces. Tumnus had a horrible sinking feeling in the pit of his stomach. Had he tumbled into the home of some dreadful underground-dwelling beast?

Shaking like a bulrush in the wind, Tumnus turned around and saw – treasure!

A wooden chest had begun to rot away, and spilling out of its splintered sides were rubies and pearls, emeralds and topazes, all glinting like a pond at sunrise.

Girbius and the Dwarfs tumbled after him, and they all crowded around the treasure, marvelling at it but not touching it. "You found it, Tumnus!" said Girbius, clapping him on the back.

Tumnus blushed. "Well I didn't _find_ it, actually – more stumbled upon it. All a silly mistake –"

But his friends were not listening to him. The Dwarfs all wrung him by the hand, grinning through their long auburn beards.

"Hullo," said Girbius, bent over double and holding a lantern. "The ground's all soft here – looks like it was dug up."

Quick as a trice Barumple had fetched a spade. The Dwarf twined the long end of his green hood around a candle to hold it in place, and by this light and the light of Girbius' lantern he began to dig. The spade clanged as it hit metal, and soon they unearthed a square iron box. A blow of the spade broke the lock, and Girbius and Tumnus looked on in wonder as it was opened to reveal several items of yellow gold.

Terwimple respectfully removed his yellow hood and turned to the young Fauns. "As the finders of these treasures, you get first pick." He gestured at the wooden chest and iron box.

Tumnus found himself pushed forward by the Dwarfs, and he carefully pulled away the rotting sides of the chest. His fingers trembled as he sorted through the most fabulous jewels he had ever seen in his life. These things weren't for him. A Faun could go out of his mind with worry if he kept such riches in his home. Looking over, Tumnus saw that Girbius had selected a golden bracelet, which seemed a rather odd choice. He turned back to the pile of jewels.

A simple pearl pendant caught his eye, and he found himself thinking of Betula. He would have brought the Dryad, as she was more adventurous than him, but Betula did not like going underground. He picked up the pendant.

With six pairs of willing hands, moving the treasure out into the wheelbarrows was quick work. The spirits of the group were high as they made their way out of the cavern and along the tunnels. Tumnus knew they had returned to the areas inhabited by the Red Dwarfs when he felt mining cart tracks beneath his hooves. Soon they passed lanterns hanging from hooks, and pickaxes and shovels leaning against the rough stone walls.

That night the Red Dwarfs had a feast in one of the caves. And if you are lucky enough to have ever been to one, you would know that a feast with the Red Dwarfs is a wonderful occasion with the best of food and the best of company. The cave was cheerfully-lit by torches in brackets on the walls, and even before he entered Tumnus' mouth was watering from the delicious smells. There was a long wooden table set with an enormous spread, and no silly rules about what to eat and when or how. Everybody just started on what they liked best without giving a fig for how things were properly done.

There was chicken, ham, bacon, and boiled eggs. There were three kinds of cheeses, and loaves of rough wholesome bread that the Dwarfs are famous for. There were mushrooms, leeks, beans, potatoes with gravy, fresh new peas, and baskets of chestnuts. For sweets there were fruit pies and a massive bread pudding with raisins. And finally, there were large flagons of sweet mead and frothy golden ale to drink.

Tumnus was certain that he had never eaten so much in his life. Young Pikkatumple insisted that he try everything, and Foldimple, a most obliging fellow, kept refilling his cup. And soon it was time for the entertainment. There was no stage, and so the Dwarfs would just clamber up onto the table in full view of the feasters. There was singing and dancing, and jokes and stories. A young Dwarf called Duffle did such a good impression of a drunken centaur that it had Tumnus spitting ale out of his nose.

In such jolly company, it was inevitable that the two Fauns would be called upon to perform. Tumnus looked across the table at Girbius, who was very red in the face and swaying back and forth. "You play your flute, Tumnus!" he hiccupped. "And I'll dance, and the Dwarfs can sing a sing-song!"

The Dwarfs cheered and clapped exuberantly as the Fauns climbed onto the table. Tumnus just avoided putting a hoof through a pie, and eventually found a clear space between a ham and a basket of bread.

He took out his flute, and thought it strange that he wasn't nervous at all. Normally the prospect of playing a tune in front of a crowd of people, even if they were friends, would have frightened him. But this time it was different.

"What should I play?" asked Tumnus.

About eight different songs were yelled at him at once. Finally Terwimple stood up and beat a bowl with a spoon for silence. "How about 'Good Dwarf fill the flowing bowl'?" he suggested, and was immediately met with roars of approval. Tumnus had never heard that song, so several Dwarfs obliged him by humming the tune.

"Are we ready then?" asked Girbius. "One – two – three!"

Tumnus played the cheery tune, Girbius started to dance, and the Dwarfs sang along at the top of their voices:

"_Good Dwarf, fill the flowing bowl_

_Until it doth run over._

_For tonight we shall be merry,_

_And tomorrow we'll be sober."_

The Dwarfs clapped and banged their cups on the table to keep the beat, singing as loud and jolly a song as you could ever hope to hear. Girbius cut a fine figure with his bright yellow scarf, dancing as only a Faun can dance, twirling among the dishes without knocking over a single cup. And Tumnus, who only six seasons ago had been unable to coax a single note out of his flute during music lessons, played as skilfully as any Faun in all of Narnia.

_A/N: The quote was taken from – where else? – page 17 of __The Lion, the Witch and the Wardrobe__. Again, my favourite page about Tumnus. The drinking song is based on "Landlord fill the flowing bowl." Please drink responsibly._


	8. An Early Winter

_A/N: I... yeah... Well, I honestly have nothing to say in my defence except, perhaps, better late than never? The previous chapter was over a year in coming, and this one was only eight and a half months. At this rate, you'll only have to wait five more months for the last chapter! I know, I know. But I really do not want to have an unfinished work posted here under my name, so rest assured that this will be finished. Er, someday. Anyway, on with the story!_

_Disclaimer: This story was written for entertainment purposes only. I own nothing – unless I go mad and suffer from the delusion that I'm C. S. Lewis, in which case I own everything. That's right, everything._

**Year 900, WINTER:**

**An Early Winter**

"'_Meanwhile," said Mr. Tumnus, "it is winter in Narnia, and has been for ever so long…'" – p. 13, __The Lion, the Witch and the Wardrobe__._

Normally about this time of year, Tumnus would be spending his spare hours sitting on the bank of a stream, dangling his hooves in the water with his nose buried in a book. Today he was indeed sitting by a stream, but the water was much too cold for his little feet. There was a chill wind in the air, and most of the trees had long shed their golden leaves.

It was quite a miserable place to spend an afternoon, but Tumnus' father Limnus was meeting with some people in their home, and he didn't want anything to do with it. Limnus was a well-known and respected Faun, always in the thick of things, but Tumnus just wanted to lead a quiet life with his books. Still, he knew that something was happening in Narnia. Creatures were meeting in secret and there was something ominous about there being such an early winter this year – but Tumnus was determined not to concern himself with that. He knew that he was not cut out for adventures.

"Leave adventures to the adventurous," he mumbled as he turned the page.

"Tumnus?"

The young Faun squeaked and nearly dropped his book into the water. When he was certain that the precious volume was clutched safely in his hands, he looked up to see his friend Betula.

The Wood Nymph smiled apologetically. "I did not mean to sneak up on you," she said frankly. "I suppose I just... move quietly."

Tumnus nodded his curly head. "Of course, that's all right, I completely understand," he babbled, and then realised he was babbling. To cover his embarrassment he waved his hand and nearly sent the book tumbling into the stream again. "Won't you sit down?" he asked, blushing fiercely.

Betula gave a gracious nod and sat down beside him. Tumnus was grateful that she did not mention how odd he was acting. Earlier in their acquaintance she would have certainly brought it up, and no doubt teased him mercilessly, but now she was kinder and more thoughtful.

They sat silently for a moment and watched the stream ripple by. But soon Tumnus found himself looking out of the corners of his eyes at his companion. Around her neck hung the pearl pendant he had given to her. Her skin was a little greyer, and Tumnus remembered that she had moved rather stiffly when she had sat down. Her eyes were silver now, not green. It appeared that winter was indeed almost upon them.

"Tumnus," said Betula in a tone that meant that she had something serious to say – a rare occasion. "Have you heard of...?" Her voice trailed off, and she gulped, looking around at the surrounding trees. Aside from the faint sound of voices coming to them over the still air from Tumnus' house, and the burbling stream, they were alone.

"Have I heard of what?" whispered Tumnus. He did not quite know why he was whispering, but some of Betula's apprehension had worn off on him.

"Have you heard of... the White Lady?" said the Wood Nymph so quietly that Tumnus was not sure quite what she had said.

"I – well, I – I don't know," Tumnus stammered. He saw that Betula was puzzled and struggled to explain. "I think I've heard her mentioned once or twice," he admitted. "But that's only when my father is talking to his friends, and – well, to tell you the truth – I try not to listen." He lowered his curly head and picked at the corner of his book's cover.

Not for the first time he wished he were more like his father. He wished he could puff out his chest and confidently tell Betula all about this mysterious White Lady that the Narnians were whispering about. But Tumnus loved a quiet life, and in his opinion the less he knew about such things the better.

"I see," said Betula slowly, and Tumnus wondered if he had disappointed her. "I've been hearing things about her," the Wood Nymph confessed. "From the wind and the trees and the other Nymphs. It – well, it worries me, Tumnus. I did not know who else I could talk to."

"You can talk to me," Tumnus reassured her. "Yes, certainly you may," he said, warming to the task. Just because he did not want to hear such things from his father's lot did not mean that he would refuse the opportunity of helping a friend in need.

Betula gave a wide smile, so wide that she creaked slightly at the movement. "I knew I could tell you," she said warmly. "Well then, listen." She looked around at the forest once more, and then clutched the Faun's hands, grabbing them away from his book, and leaned closer to him. Tumnus was startled, but her secretive mood was infectious and he hitched an expression of serious contemplation onto his features.

"I think it was the Nymphs who first saw the White Lady," said Betula in a hushed voice. "They say she came from the wild North, a beautiful woman. But strange." Her greyish brow furrowed in thought. "I am sorry I cannot explain it better, but I wasn't there to see her with my own eyes."

Tumnus nodded in understanding. "Of course."

"Well," the Wood Nymph continued, "they say that this woman has been calling herself Queen for two years." Her silvery eyes widened in indignation. "Can you believe it? A stranger calling herself Queen!"

"It does sound rather preposterous," the young Faun admitted.

"I know! Preposterous!" The two young Narnians gazed at each other in a sympathy of feeling. "But would you know, Tumnus, not everyone is as clear-headed as you or I."

"You mean...?"

"Yes." Betula nodded fervently, and tightened her grip on his hands. "There are some who follow her. And it is not just a few barmy old codgers or foolish youngsters, either. Their numbers are growing, Tumnus. I never would have thought it could be true, but there is a great number of Narnians who are calling her their Queen."

The little Faun was momentarily speechless. "B – bu – but _why_?" he sputtered. "Why would anyone follow her?"

"Oh, it is too terrible," said the Nymph sadly. She shook her silvery head, and her hair rustled. "The things she is saying – and people _believe_ her –"

"What is she saying?" pressed Tumnus. He did not think that he would ever care so much about what a stranger was doing in Narnia, but something about this elusive White Lady was infusing him with a dim and distant presentiment of horror.

Betula caught her lower lip between her teeth, then gave him a fleeting glance of wretched misery. "She – she –" The Nymph released her grip and buried her face in her hands. "She is saying that Aslan does not exist!"

For a moment Tumnus was completely stunned. He did not know what to think, and just watched numbly as his friend sobbed dryly into her hands, her shoulders trembling. Finally, he reached out and awkwardly patted her upper arm.

"Now, now," he said anxiously, hoping that she would soon calm down. "We both of us know that is absolute rubbish. And anyone who could believe _that_ – well – we cannot worry ourselves about it."

"But what is she going to do?" Betula wailed, raising her head. "She says she will rule over all of Narnia. And –" Here the Nymph gulped once or twice, catching her breath. "– some people say that she has strange powers. That is why some of us have started to call her the White Witch."

"Strange powers?" Tumnus scoffed. "Rule over all of Narnia? Come, Betula, you cannot believe that! Narnia is a large place, after all. And with people like you and me who know the truth, and – and my father, and his sort, well – how could someone possibly gain power over all of Narnia?"

The Nymph had calmed down somewhat, and Tumnus smiled comfortingly. "And even if she does gain some small power, we're too far West to fall under her rule anyway. You oughtn't to worry yourself over these things, Betula."

"Yes." The Wood Nymph wiped her eyes. "Maybe I am being silly. And thank you, Tumnus. Thank you for listening. Now –" She stretched out her creaking arms and yawned widely. "I think I'll return to my tree and sleep. It is too cold out here, anyway. I am already quite drowsy."

They stood. "It is an early winter this year," Tumnus observed, sniffing the cold air. "Spring will come quite late."

"But I will see you when it comes," said the Wood Nymph with a wide smile. "Good-bye, Tumnus." And she disappeared between the trees.

The Faun looked after her for a moment, and then bent to pick up his book. As he trotted back to his house, he wondered who this self-proclaimed "Queen" could be. After several guesses, each wilder than the last, he decided that it did not pertain to him anyway. His father and even his friend Girbius seemed to want to take action against her, but he did not want to get involved in all this mess.

"Besides," he laughed to himself as he skirted a large stump, "what are the odds of my meeting this supposed Queen all the way out here anyway?"

It was settled, then. He would just live happily in his cave with his father, and hopefully Limnus would manage to keep out of trouble. And however long the winter was going to be, he would see Betula again in the spring.

_A/N: This chapter's quote is from page 13 of __The Lion, the Witch and the Wardrobe__. And if you haven't picked up on the date of this chapter, this is the start of the Long Winter. Only one more chapter after this one, folks!_


	9. Epilogue

_A/N: Most of my author's notes for this story seem to contain apologies for not updating sooner, so I will not bore you with another one!_

_Disclaimer: This story was written for entertainment purposes only. And apparently, so were my disclaimers._

**Year 1000, SPRING:**

**Epilogue**

"_Every moment the patches of green grew bigger and the patches of snow grew smaller. Every moment more and more of the trees shook off their robes of snow….Coming suddenly round a corner into a glade of silver birch trees Edmund saw the ground covered in all directions with little yellow flowers – celandines." – __The Lion, the Witch and the Wardrobe__._

Tumnus inhaled deeply as he strolled through the woods, enjoying the sights and smells and the feel of a Narnian spring. It may have been because after a hundred years of winter his eyes were used to stark white vistas, but he could have sworn that the land looked greener than he had ever remembered.

The Faun paused by a stream to watch the clear water burble over slippery stones. The past century had changed him more than he had thought possible. His father, fighting side-by-side with scores of brave Narnians, had been killed early on during the resistance. Tumnus' childhood friend Girbius had shared the same fate. After the euphoria of restoring the monarchy at Cair Paravel had died down, the Narnians had mourned for old friends lost under the tyranny of the White Witch.

Tumnus lowered his head. The winter had taught him more than he had ever learned from books. Circumstances had dragged him from the quiet life that he loved so much, brought him into the shameful employ of the White Witch, only to have him go through horrors to protect that one shining light – dear, sweet little Lucy – and see Narnia as it was once again. Change had come, marking the beginning of a new age. The four Kings and Queens – the appearance of Aslan himself – being freed from the cold confines of stone – and of course, the wonderful dawning of the first spring in a hundred years. Tumnus had lived through things he had never imagined. He had grown up.

The Faun spotted a glade of silver birches and sat down in the cool shade, running his hand over the tops of the dainty yellow celandines that carpeted the ground. It was a quiet, peaceful place. He smiled and took out his father's flute, running his hands over the ancient instrument. During the winter he had never played it for joy.

His raised the flute to his lips, and began to play.

"Good morning."

Tumnus looked up, and then sprang to his feet in alarm – a Wood Nymph was standing before him, rubbing sleep from her eyes. And not just any Wood Nymph.

"_Betula_?" he gasped, scarcely daring to believe it. But it was unmistakeably her; she was wearing the pearl pendant he had found while treasure-seeking with the Red Dwarfs, so many years ago.

She stretched out her limbs, groaning as they let out a strange creaking sound. "I'm still a bit stiff," she admitted, touching her toes. "But it's finally spring! And what better way to start the season than to awake and find my dear friend playing his flute? You're much better than when I last heard you."

Tumnus gave a fleeting smile. "I've practiced," he said wryly.

"Well, I told you last time you were here that when you improved, you could come back and play as much as you pleased." Betula finally finished stretching, and shook out her long leafy hair. She gave a contented sigh, opened her eyes, and frowned.

"What is it?" asked Tumnus nervously, fidgeting with his tail.

Betula peered at him closely. "You look... different. And older." Her eyes widened. "You have a beard now!" The Dryad appeared to be thinking very hard, and then looked at the trees around her. "Why, I'm taller!" she exclaimed.

The Faun bit his lip. "It's been winter for a hundred years," he explained gently. "That's why I've had a lot of time to practice."

Betula's silvery eyes were very wide and very round. "A hundred...?"

"Yes," Tumnus confirmed. "So much has happened that I need to tell you about!"

"Clearly," said the Nymph.

They spent all day in conversation, sitting in Betula's grove, strolling among the trees, and dipping their feet in the stream. Tumnus noted that Betula was a very good audience. She did not interrupt, and acted shocked and nervous in all the right places. When Tumnus had finished the tale, the sun was setting, and they were back at the grove.

"If I didn't see that both of us have aged," said the Wood Nymph with twinkling eyes, "I would have thought you made this all up to trick me. Or amuse me."

"It's all true," said Tumnus, placing his hand over his heart. "Every word."

They stood for a moment in silence, reflecting on all that had happened to their dear country. Tumnus suddenly thought of something, and looked anxiously at his companion. What would she say? What if she just laughed at him? But the Faun decided that he would never know until he asked, and took a deep breath.

"The Fauns are having their first Midnight Dance tomorrow night," he said awkwardly, rubbing at the back of his neck. "Would you… um… like to come?" He quickly crossed his fingers behind his back.

Betula smiled, and fingered the pearl pendant hanging at her throat. "I'd be delighted."

**The End.**

_A/N: Even the epilogue gets a quote! This is where I got the inspiration for Betula's grove. I'd always meant for her to be a silver birch tree nymph, and I happened upon this passage and immediately exploited it! It's from page 131 of __The Lion, the Witch and the Wardrobe__._

_Having _finally_ finished this story, this marks my official departure from the Narnian fandom. I've loved writing about everyone's favourite Faun, and offer huge thanks to everyone who reviewed my stories._


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